


Paradise Lost

by MayLovelies



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dark Past, Fluff, Friendship, Human!Aziraphale, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-20 00:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19366396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayLovelies/pseuds/MayLovelies
Summary: AU in which Aziraphale is a mortal bookkeeper who happens to gain the attention of Crowley, still a reckless demon who can't help but fall in love with this strange human.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SO like, we know how angel Aziraphale is but idk about human Aziraphale. So writing him as himself but not himself was fun.

Despite his demonic nature, and his need for discord and chaos, Crowley had a thing for his own personal routine's on Earth. Perhaps it was his time around the mortals, learning schedules and getting used to them (to an extent). His "routine" included coffee, tending to his plants, killing his plants, and if he wasn't out and about wreaking havoc--then more coffee. 

Yet as of recent, somewhere between wreaking havoc and coffee, Crowley had added another interest to his routine. That was, visiting the local book store every single day. At first it was sheer curiosity that brought him there--he enjoyed seeing the stories of mortals, and what their imaginations could conjure into a few hundred pages. So he visited, every other day, remotely undisturbed by the lack of people in the tiny, dim little book shop until one fateful evening, did he feel a tap on his shoulder.

"Excuse me, I do apologize and hope I'm not disturbing you." The voice, soft and innocent yet somewhat annoying broke Crowley out of his mental trance. 

"It's a bit too late for apologizes. What do you want?" Crowley, who had, for some time now been starting at the spines of books responded. He turned around, his shaded eyes meeting the slightly shorter height of a man whom he believed to be the book store owner.  Now Crowley had never spoken to him, but he'd seen him every day. He looked like a tired man, his hair grey and his beard unruly--this more than likely came from stress. Yet, he still managed to wear a smile as he addressed Crowley, slightly nervous it seemed.

"It's just that well...you've been standing here for about an hour. I thought perhaps you needed help, finding a book." 

Now, to Crowley an hour was a blink in time, for a mortal however--and hour was an hour. He opened his mouth to reply but the nervous bookstore owner beat him to it.

"I can suggest--if you wouldn't mind, a genre for you. I've seen you here, a few times and you tend to gravitate toward the more philosophical novels...but I've always thought that perhaps, a man of your attire and um, aesthetic would also enjoy certain types of poetry." 

Oh yes, Crowley did quite enjoy philosophy. Again, it was a play on the mortal mind--to see just how much they knew, how much they didn't know and how much they believed themselves to be tricking their own creators. Poetry though...it was just never something that interested Crowley. He'd known and met all the great poets, why would he need to read them?

"This way." The book store owner chimed.

"I've never been one for poetry." Crowley admitted, finding himself following the man anyway. "It's all so predictable."

"Well some of it is, but that's the joy of it...to me of course." He admitted. "Sometimes predicable is better than the unknown." 

That interested Crowley--slightly. If there was one thing he learned about humans, it was how much they hated predictable things. They were daring, running into the unknown without a care in the world (that is how most wars started of course). By human standards, this book store owner would be rather borning, Crowley could tell that by just looking at him.

"Here we are." The man's voice again rocked Crowley back to reality. They stood near the back of the shop, the owner searching through the spines until he pulled out a volume. "Poems of William Wordsworth...a Romantic era poet." 

Crowley certainly knew William, in his youth though. He could not quite recall his poetry or writing. "If you like philosophy, I think you'd like him."  

Before he knew it, Crowley had a book in his hands and the bookstore owner, was elsewhere sorting through more spines. "And if not that one, then read some of John Dunne's works, or Dante's Inferno--"

"Yes, yes I've read Dante's Inferno many times." Crowley admitted. "It's all rather boring don't you think?" Just like you! Crowley wanted to say, but kept that to himself. "Look, I apologize if I disturbed you from whatever you were doing to the point where you had to well--come over here, but I'm not really interested in poetry or stories." 

"Well, I can't fathom why you'd come to a bookstore." There was a hint of annoyance in the bookkeepers voice, again piquing Crowley's interest--yet not enough for him to want to stay. 

"If you don't like boring things then try Paradise Lost, here." The bookkeeper had another suggestion. "I doubt that's too boring for your taste."

Now that was something that caught Crowley off guard. Had he read the book? Yes, in addition to meeting Milton, the strange mortal who wrote it. Yet, to see it somehow placed here was rather odd to Crowely, in this dark, muggy bookshop in a distant part of town. 

"If you ask me, it's a quite interesting read. It's been a few years since I myself looked at it. Here, let me get those "boring" books off of your hands." 

By this time, Crowley was reading through some of the pages when he caught the bookkeeper going back to the front.

"What did you think of this when you read it? Did you like it?" He asked, in all curiosity.

"It made me...sympathize with the devil, if that makes sense. Perhaps he wasn't as bad as we thought...perhaps there was a reason Satan and all the other demons turned against God." He shrugged. "It's just a story though, that's all."

"Would you think the same if it were a real story?" Crowley asked, now completely engrossed in this strange yet engaging human. 

"Who knows. I'd have to meet a real demon, here his story. I'll be at the front if you want to buy that book--"

"Name, what's your name? You haven't told me." With the novel in his hand, Crowley followed the mortal to the front desk, reaching out just a bit to stop him.

"Aziraphale....Ralph is an acceptable nick name. My parents...were pious, I can't say I like the name."

"Souds a bit angelic."

"That's what my they always said." Aziraphale grinned. "Now are you gonna buy the book or not?"

"You think I'll like it?"

"Well, for a guy as hard to please as you, I think it will surprise you." By now, Aziraphale was at the other end of his desk, sitting back in his chair with a grin on his face.

"And what genre do you like?" Crowley asked, placing the book on the counter. "You seem like the type to dabble in hopeless romantic novels." 

"Guitly as charged, though I like a variety of genres...romance, poetry, mystery....." It was then, Aziraphale's time to run on, to explain what he liked to read, what made him happy. Crowley could tell that he didn't get out a lot, and that Crowley was perhaps the only "person" he'd spoken to for days. The conversation easily jumped from books to Aziraphale's life--what he ate, how he liked to walk around at night, etc... When finally he ended and had gotten to ringing up Crowley's book, both realized it was late out.

"Oh my. I hope I wasn't keeping you for long. I didn't even see how dark it was outside."

"No no. I didn't stop you from talking." Crowley responded. "I'll take the book. See you tomorrow."

It was then, as Crowley started his path to the exit, did he stop and face Aziraphale again. "Could I tempt you for some lunch, tomorrow?"

"Are you a demon now?" Aziraphale said teasingly. Before Crowley could answer, Aziraphale chuckled. "I'm joking. Yes, I'd love to eat lunch with you. See you tomorrow at noon."

"At noon." Crowley repeated as he left the small bookshop, a feeling of excitement and regret whirling through his essence. Regardless, it was the best he'd felt in centuries. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for supporting chapter one! Please again, comment and leave kudos if you enjoy my fic. Also, it's fun writing Crowley trying to take a human on a date. I hope you enjoy.

There were many things Crowley never expected himself to do. 

Asking a mortal out for lunch was one thing and actually eating out with him, was obviously another.  Every essence of his being told him to cancel, to call this thing off and to just not show up altogether. Yet, there Crowley was--waiting at the book store ten minutes before twelve. 

Any thoughts he had of running off disappeared when he felt that familiar tap on his shoulder. 

"You're early." It was Aziraphale; the goofy smile still plastered to his face. 

"I was already near by." Crowley lied as he turned around "Just thought I might have well come inside." Truth was, given the uncertainty he had leading up to this excursion, he could do nothing but show up early. It calmed his nerves--at least that's what he thought (did demons even have nerves).

"Also, I don't believe I got your name last time. Other than your dark clothes and sun glasses--which you wear inside--I don't know how to identify you. I'd like to know your name."

"Crowley."

"Crawley?"

"No. Crowley." He repeated. "I'm not overly fond of the name Crawley."

"Seems serpent like." Aziraphale responded. "So, Crowley, where are we going to eat." The two were heading out of the bookstore, Aziraphale beaming as usual, by Crowley's side.  

"A cafe just a few blocks away." Crowley responded as they approached his car. It was then, Aziraphale gasped nearly knocking Crowley off of his feet.

"What is it?"

"I love your car! When I was a boy, I had a collection and one of my cars looked just like this! Do you mind if I touch it--"

"I'd rather you not. Smudges are rather annoying--"

It was too late, his hands already feeling against the polished exterior as if he was a child again. "My father bought me a replica like this...he'd always....'" He drifted off, as if he could not find the right words to say. Crowley noticed a change in his usual calm demeanor...it was almost as if he was...sad...Like the memory brought him pain. 

He looked at the car, at Crowley and quickly removed his hand from the automobile. "How rude of me...I apologize...like you said, smudges are annoying." Crowley tried to read him more--tried to see just what that expression and change in his voice meant but, as soon as he tried, Aziraphale was letting himself into the car. 

Crowley inwardly cursed. He was sure that, in some nonexistent manual to courting humans, he was supposed to open the door for Aziraphale. And given the human was already well...sad, Crowey felt like he'd already screwed up somewhere. However, it seemed that being in the car of his childhood changed Aziraphale's mood because within a second, he was chattering again. Normally, if a human had talked this much Crowley would have put them out of the car, but he was already taken by Aziraphale, he rather enjoyed him talking.

"Ahh the Ritz." That caught Crowley's attention, as he nearly pressed the breaks. 

"Is that where you'd like to eat?"

"Oh no, good heavens no. I couldn't afford such a place." Aziraphale defended. "I've always wanted to go there. Perhaps one day. Though, it must be nice to have money to spend on fine dining and nonessential things."

"Yes. Yes it is." Crowley bluntly replied.

Now, Aziraphale didn't have to say anything. It was the look on his face however, that let Crowley know that perhaps that wasn't the best thing to say. He knew that flaunting money around was seen as ignorant by human standards, but he truly thought that wealth and money were things that humans looked for in a mate. Aziraphale however, wasn't a normal human and that comment may have come off as--well--it made Crowley look like an ass.

"We're here!" Crowley chimed, as the two pulled up to a familiar cafe. Crowley frequented here, when he didn't know Aziraphale he'd seen him there too. Most of the town's people came here. By the time they sat and were waited, Crowley already knew what Aziraphale was going to order. He always had. A grilled ham sandwich with no egg and a glass of water.  When the waiter came by, Crowley watched as he ordered. Watched Aziraphale's movements and body langauge; how he lit up when he recited his favorite meal and how he seemed to make the waiter smile as well--chuckle even. Crowley wasn't hungry, nor did he need to eat anything yet he ordered some toast and a cup of coffee. 

"So, have you always been here--in London?" 

"No I just moved to London for business." Crowley lied. "And you?" He asked before Aziraphale inquired a bit more. "I'm from Wales--originally. Came here for personal reasons." Another shift in the mood, yet the waiter ruined any chance Crowley had of trying to get to the bottom of it. He'd come with their food, much to Aziraphale's delight.

The two ate and continued to talk, all the while, Crowley was near entranced with Azirapahle. Now he started to realize just why he was so taken by the human; his mannerism, his personality...there was a sense of familiarity about him. As if Crowley knew him from somewhere yet, he just couldn't put his finger on it. At least not then. 

An hour or so passed and they had finished. As Aziraphale reached for his wallet, Crowley had already put his card on the table. 

"Would you like to split--"

"No, I asked you out remember?" 

At that response, Aziraphale smiled a bit as if he was trying to hide a blush. Eventually, the duo left and this time, Crowley made sure to open the door for Aziraphale. 

"Thank you Crowley...I really enjoyed this." Aziraphale beamed. "You can drop me off at the book store--I'm sure you have stuff to do--"

"I was actually going to the store." Crowley lied. "I need a new jacket, do you mind tagging along it's quicker to go there then drop you, go back--you know what I mean--let's go."

Aziraphale, somewhat understanding that he could not argue with Crowley leaned back in the seat. He was completely unaware of the sharp turns and curves Crowley took until finally, the car parked and Aziraphale realized they were in a rather, costly part of town; one of the more expensive shopping districts. 

"Would you like me to wait in the car--"

"No, I'd like you to come with me." 

Aziraphale was obviously uncomfortable being in an area of affluent people--that much Crowley could tell. Just walking inside the store seemed a challenge enough for him yet, as he stuck by Crowley's side and saw that Crowley didn't mind his presence he seemed to calm down. Eventually, Crowley found the jacket he was "looking" for but it didn't stop there. Half-way through the clothing shop they'd stopped near an area that had casual, yet expensive looking clothes.

"These are about your size."

"Oh yes but I couldn't possibly afford them--"

"I'm offering. You seem like you need more clothes anyway. Come on, pick what you like." The truth was, yes Aziraphale needed more clothes--money was just tight at the moment. From the moment he got in the car, things like clothes and groceries were at the forefront of his mind. Crowley was guilty of peering into his mind (just a bit) and decided to help. Eventually, after going back and forth Crowley had convinced Aziraphale to choose a couple of outfits. After that, they were on their way back to the bookshop when this time, it was Aziraphale who stopped them.

"There's a park, not to far from here. It's really nice--sometimes I walk around there...other times I just sit...I think you'd like it." 

So within the next few minutes, they found themselves at the park. They walked, sat, talked some more and eventually moved on. Their journey however didn't stop there. Since Crowley feigned being new to London, he allowed Aziraphale to take him around in their little area. Eventually, after none were quite ready to end their excursion, Aziraphale brought up the theatre and the two saw a movie. After that, the sun had set and reluctantly, Aizraphale allowed Crowley to buy him dinner.  

Now finally, when Aziraphale was exhausted, they were on their way back to the bookshop. 

"You seem to have enjoyed yourself." Crowley muttered.

"I did...thank you. This was the best night I had in years. Thank you."

At this moment, Crowley wanted to inquire about earlier...the times when Aziraphale grew quiet, sad almost. When speaking of his father, or living in Wales--there was certainly a part in Aziraphale's life that brought him pain. However, Crowley, as odd as it sounded wanted to savor this moment. He finally understood why humans just stayed quiet sometimes when they were in each other's company. Because the time they had together was precious. Or something akin to that. 

"You know you're free to ask me for lunch--anytime." Crowley inclined. "Whenever I'm in the bookstore, which will be everyday."

"Well yes," Aziraphale responded yawning. "I will only ask you if you promise to let me pay for you next time."

"Something tells me you won't let me argue with you."

"No, I won't. So tomorrow then Crowley?" 

"Tomorrow." 

Eventually they reached Aziraphale's home, and with one final goodbye Crowley was alone again. He stared in silence until Aziraphale made it into the bookshop. Little by little the lights in the shop dimmed and eventually Crowley pulled out, still feeling a sense of familiarity from Aziraphale. As if he had known him once before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next chapter, I plan to touch up on why Aziraphale is so familiar to Crowley, but also, I want to touch up on Aziraphale's past and why sometimes, things hit close to home. As usual, if you enjoy, please tell me <3.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if any of you have read Paradise Lost but it's good and interesting. And i can see some inspiration from it written in Good Omens. Like Satan from Paradise lost reminds me of Crowley. Anyway, if you enjoyed please leave a comment and kudos.


End file.
